


Hold My Body Down

by CourierSix96



Series: tma ramblings [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Out of Character Emma Harvey, how do avatars process loss?, no one gets to deal with emotional trauma in tma, written before 167
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23337388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierSix96/pseuds/CourierSix96
Summary: The Spiral makes a house visit and no one gets closure.*2020/05/14* This was written well before episode 167 dropped, so the Emma in this fic is practically an OC.
Relationships: Michael/Emma (The Magnus Archives)
Series: tma ramblings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677889
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Hold My Body Down

The yellow door that did not belong slowly creaked open and allowed its occupant to step out into the dimly lit bedroom. Its head cocked as it took in the scenery of the room; the pile of clothes in the corner; the tissues littering the floor; and the crumpled form of a woman clutching a sweater curled up in the bed, clearly lost in an uneasy sleep. Her copper toned skin was flushed red from crying and she took deep, shuddering breaths as she slept, her eyes darting back and forth beneath thin eyelids.

It did not know why it was here, it had simply wanted to be there and the door had appeared. It had never been one to turn down a door, if it had ever been _one_ of anything at all. It stepped towards the bed, reality bending slightly in the air around it, tugging at the carpet and warping the colours of the walls. The feelings currently swirling around in its belly were uncomfortable and had nothing to with the people trapped in its hallways. It held an elongated bony hand over the sleeping woman’s cheek, hesitating for only a moment before gently resting its heavy palm on her cheek. Before it could stop itself, a long, low laugh bubbled up, echoing around the dark space of the room. 

The woman shifted at the noise, eyes opening to take in the form of the blond monstrous figure next to the bed. 

“Michael?” Her voice was raspy, like she had screamed for hours.

“Shh, he’s not real. You’re dreaming, little one.” Its head leaned down to be level with hers, its neck impossibly long and awkwardly angled. 

The woman nodded, closing her eyes briefly. “I miss you.” 

It laughed again, this time louder, teetering on the edge of hysterical. “You miss _Michael_.” 

The woman winced and the grabbed at the heavy hand still resting on her cheek, pausing for the briefest second at the odd texture before removing the it from her face and sitting up, pulling the hand into her lap. It followed her movements, its body twisting itself into a mockery of a sitting position on the foot of the bed, across from her. It could see her trying to figure out exactly what she was seeing as in this form, it shifted and altered whenever the human eye tried to work out what it was looking at. It took an unnecessary breath and distorted into the human form of Michael Shelley. The shudder of fear and confusion that passed through the woman was delicious.

“Why are you here? What are you?” Her voice shook slightly as she asked, but remained surprisingly composed. 

“I, ah, I am a liar and I am Michael. I am here because Michael wanted to be here, so I came. Came to visit you, Emma.” It giggled when she flinched at the sound of her name. 

She looked down at the hand in her lap, realizing that she had been gently rubbing circles with her thumbs, the way she had done whenever Michael had been stressed out. Although the hand appeared to be human, the texture was the same as it had been when the creature looked like a monster. 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

“I have decided yet!” It grinned at her. It knew it couldn’t hurt her, but she didn’t need to know that. 

She just stared at it in mute horror. It could hear her heart thumping wildly in her chest over the sound of her ragged breathing. The fear that rolled off of her in waves was intoxicating, the feeling made it want to bundle her up and keep her in its hallways so she could feed it that heady taste of despair forever. It laughed at the thought of taking a tool away from the Archivist, at how angry It Is What Witnesses would be at its antics. The woman in front of it let go of its hand to press her own shaking hands over her ears in a futile effort to block out the headache inducing sound of its laughter. She scooted backwards on the bed, her back pressing into the headboard and pulled her knees up to her chest, as if to protect herself from it.

It ended the laugh with a sigh, head turning to take in the form on the scared human who had begun to cry. She had her eyes tightly shut and jumped slightly when it once again placed a hand on her cheek to wipe away tears. To her credit, she didn’t make any noise when the sharpened end of its thumb sliced open her cheek, leaving behind a red cut. 

“Please, Michael, please go away.” She finally opened her eyes to look at it, the words were barely above a whisper, “please, you’re dead and this is some horrible hallucination, please go, you’re hurting me.” 

It leaned in close to her face, far closer than should have been possible given the distance between them and placed its forehead against hers, its hot breath tickling her skin. “You’re right. I am a hallucination.” It smiled before continuing, “But I am not dead." It moved a hand to the side of her neck, feeling her pulse flutter nervously under its fingers and kissed her. Its skin was too hot, too leathery, and all wrong against her softness. It was not built for this, but Michael knew what it was doing. She reacted surprisingly well; her fingers tangled in its long blonde hair and a racing pulse that betrayed her emotions. 

When the two separated, she was wild-eyed and panting, while it felt a sense of contentedness it associated with a full meal. It grinned at her, even in human form, its smile was impossibly wide and full of sharp teeth. The look of mild horror, confusion, and sadness she returned was one that it reveled in. 

“What happened to you?” She asked softly.

“There is no you, little one, there is only me.” It giggled, “Tell Ms. Robinson that I say hello.” It slid back away from her and moved its way off the bed, the patterns of the rug changing beneath its feet. 

“That doesn’t make any sense!” The anger was starting to overtake her fear, her voice growing steadily louder, “Michael, please, tell me what is going on.” 

It regarded her for a minute, before shaking its head. “No. I’m sure you can piece it together.” It had to leave, the sensations in its stomach were getting harder to ignore. “Goodbye, Emma.” It stepped through the threshold of the yellow door that did not belong, escaping to its domain, while its low, twisted laughter reverberated around the small dark room. 

It was not It Is What Witnesses, so it did not Watch as the woman did not sleep for many nights following its visit, nor did it Observe when she returned to work, and it could not See when It Will Hurt claimed her as its own prize. 

Michael felt it, and Michael mourned.

**Author's Note:**

> Some more Michael musings, this time much heavier than the first. I couldn't help myself, especially with the trailer for s5 being released a few days ago!! I'm just very excited (scared) to see what RQ has planned for us.


End file.
